


wanderer

by Mistropolis



Category: New Dangan Ronpa V3: Everyone's New Semester of Killing
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Virtual Reality, Angst with a Happy Ending, Gen, Headcanon-heavy, Introspection, Lowercase, POV Alternating, Post-Canon, Road Trip (of sorts), don't read unless u know the whole game, idk what to tag tbh, in some areas, it's more like. third limited to second, not as in between diff charas, or just flowery language in general, way too much purple prose
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-09
Updated: 2018-09-09
Packaged: 2019-07-08 14:16:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,690
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15932159
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mistropolis/pseuds/Mistropolis
Summary: no map, no compass, no hourglass to mark the time.let's find the notch we each belong to.





	wanderer

**Author's Note:**

> oh god i've been writing this since late july... i didn't thought i would live to see it actually finished lmao
> 
> anyway there's still a severe lack of toujou-centric content in the v3 tag so this fic is born. i hope u guys enjoy this!!

at first, it takes a lot out of toujou to want to step out of even the pod.

the reasons include many but mainly are based on the fact that she can’t quite find the world outside as real as she would love for it to be. it almost feels like the pod was her glass coffin, and she was the princess still waiting for an army to announce her queen of the land once more. weren’t her people waiting for her? hungry subjects who need food and guidance, _her_ guidance, in particular, to brave through this winter and smile again?

“miss toujou kirumi, i suppose i will call an end to the therapy session here.”

“therapy session?” the person wears a white robe, and so the white-clad demon they are now known to toujou. what therapy session has taken place? for her winter-frozen heart? is she not ready for ruling once more?

does this white-clad demon want the best for her as they claim, or is it merely a trial sent to test her resolve?

“alright, toujou, i think we need to clear on something before i leave for now.” the demon sighs. “you’re in this therapy for the sole reason of leaving the killing game behind. it is part of your contract, and even though most immediately would leave this behind, we were advised by the participants of this season to give you all the equal therapy experience just to play safe.”

“where is the country i was tasked to take care of?”

“it doesn’t exist. it was a part of the script.”

“what script? what dictates its existence?”

“i’m glad you’re making progress, toujou-san, but let’s not rush things. one step at a time.”

toujou nods along to the rhythm of the sentence. one step at a time. she likes it.

 

.

 

in the second part of the therapy, toujou is asked to leave the pod behind. demanded.

now, simply taking a step away from the pod wasn’t as hard as she imagined, but completely absconding from the comfort of the wires and the wails of her people is a completely different matter.

wait. not her people. simple fantasies they were, created for the convenience of giving her character a strong enough backbone.

“alright, so far you are ready to leave the pod behind for at least several hours.” the therapist nods along to the rhythm of whatever invisible melody she is listening to. _therapist?_ toujou thought to herself. _no longer a might white-clad demon?_

“so, as a reward for that, do you wanna take a break for a bit today? no other therapy session or talks or anything, just doing whatever you want within reasons in the facilities?”

toujou nods, but she couldn’t find any activity to do in these facilities. what are there to do besides therapy sessions, sleep, therapy sessions, and sleep?

toujou only feels even more affirmed in this notion when the therapist, too, takes several moments to understand the question she addressed. “well, you aren’t exactly wrong to assume there’s nothing to do here… from what i know though, there’s a library with lots of books you can read! there’s an audio-visual room inside it too, so i think that would be your best spot to start with.”

to start with? to entertain herself with?

toujou nods as a sign of understanding then walks up the stairs to the library.

 

.

 

“this floor is like light years away from the therapy room, dude!” the librarian receptionist at the front desk said as toujou drags her sweat-drenched, weary body into the library. “you know, you could’ve just taken the lift.”

“the lift doesn’t deserve to carry an empty body like this.”

“dude, it’s a lift. it will carry anything within its range of acceptable weights.” the receptionist does not argue any further, however, looking back to his stack of documents on the table.

toujou walks up to the checkout counter where the receptionist is at, and before he could ask what help she would like to request, toujou whispers.

“what?”

“i said, can i help you with any of this?”

the receptionist alternates between staring at his documents and toujou’s wearisome eyes. “nah, i can handle all this on my ow—”

“if you can, i don’t think you would’ve been stuck here for this long. why don’t you let me help?”

“that’s because you’re the service user here, and i’m the one providing the service. you shouldn’t mix up our roles here.”

“that might be true, but there’s no saying that one can’t offer voluntary help here, right? so let me—”

“honestly, i would love to, except you aren’t the super high school level maid anymo—”

the word freezes her synapses. the receptionist, looking like he knew he has touched a nerve, excused himself with a phone call.

toujou excuses herself to the air and retreats into the depths of the bookshelves.

 

.

 

“was today fun? is the library good enough for you?”

good enough? the concept of anything needing to be good enough specifically for her has never run through toujou’s neurons. “it… it is, i suppose. not that i feel like it has to be…”

“nevertheless, i’m glad that is the case!”

“why are you happy that i am doing better anyway?”

the therapist blinks in confusion. “huh? why would i be happy… because i do feel great to know my clients are doing better?”

toujou nods, nods along to the rhythm of the statement. she could find sense in it, the reasoning of the therapist fitting that of hers perfectly well. “i can comprehend that. to want to do one’s job well… i can understand that perfectly.”

the therapist doesn’t reject her statement, but toujou could see in her eyes an urge to argue, as if out of instincts. words of comfort, words of a changed statement, they dance on the tip of her tongue.

the therapist closes her mouth and the words vanish.

“as long as you’re doing better, that’s good enough for all of us too.”

“i understand then.”

the therapist heaves a barely audible sigh as she turns around and walks back to her bedroom, the sound of pens writing across papers loud and clear in her ears. if she has any more mind to spare, she would love to imagine what words were written.

nothing good about her, that’s for sure.

 

.

 

she meets saihara on the next day. saihara looks just fine, almost pretty healthy, but the eyebags couldn’t lie.

saihara smiles bitterly. “i’m glad i get to talk to you again, toujou-san.”

“i screamed bloody murder the last time i met you.”

“that was the game, not you.” saihara looks away, then, as if realizing the grave errors of his statement, he looks up at her face directly again. “that’s not exactly what i mean, allow me to reorganize my statement…

“what i mean is that, you are still you, and you are still responsible for your actions back then, but… you’re not fully responsible for hoshi-san’s death. you would not have wanted it outside of the killing game. even if you did make every calculated step that led to hoshi-san’s death, you should still remember that shouldn’t define you, because you weren’t at your best!”

“because i wasn’t at my best… ?”

“yeah! nobody could possibly be at their best in that time…”

toujou crunches those words between the valves of her heart. taste how they feel. nods. “i suppose so. thank you for telling me so, saihara-kun.”

“anytime.” saihara smiles, but all toujou could see in the folds of his lips are the strain it takes him to form it. as if the curves are barely pushed upwards. as if saihara needs to mentally tell himself to hold the smile together.

just in the moments toujou spent on thinking about that, saihara’s smile collapses. “hey, toujou-san… speaking of, have you met anyone else? is your therapy going well otherwise?”

“no, i didn’t see anyone just yet…” toujou traipses off the mental route at that notch. “saihara-kun, do you want me to meet everyone else?”

“that should be up to you, toujou-san.”

“but what would be your response exactly? i’m talking about what you want here, and not me.”

saihara frowns in a way that unsettles toujou. unsettles her with his concerned look. “toujou-san, that should still be your decision, because you are the one that would be meeting them, not me. i can’t make any decision for you.”

_you can’t keep letting others’ will dictate yours._

toujou gulps. not in a subtle and graceful manner either. but before saihara could impose any more concern on her, toujou excuses herself.

 

.

 

“can i stop this entire therapy session thing?”

the therapist didn’t stop writing across the notepad, only pausing to erase something on the records. “not really, toujou-san. sorry to say this, but unless you have gone through this entire therapy program, tailored personally for you, there’s no way you can get out of this quite yet.”

“but that’s weird of you to say when all you want me to do for this whole time is to want for myself, right? wouldn’t it be a huge step ahead for me to want to get out of this therapy program and do something i want? isn’t that the end goal of it?”

“that’s ultimately not for you to decide, toujou-san. your emotional health being still needs to be closely monitored before such development can be reached.”

toujou nods, but the gears of her mind couldn’t quite fit together to accommodate that mindset. however, she’s also not one to argue against such thoughts.

so she puts down her clenched fists and looks back to the stack of books she has gathered.

 

.

 

“what book are you reading?”

toujou looks up at the speaker for a brief second, before gesturing to the cover and looks back down upon the book.

“not yet very talkative, are you?” amami gives her an equally empty smile, then sits opposite of her. “do you know that other than me, they also have a gaiden novel for you?”

“for me?”

“yeah. if you check the backflip for the one you’re holding right now, you might just see it.”

toujou flips to the ending pages of the book then. printed on the backflip are the covers of four books that each have a stylized drawing of _them_ on. one of them has her.

“to be fair… considering what team danganronpa is about, i can’t really say i’m surprised.”

“all the money and cheap violence entertainment?”

toujou nods, then she turns the book back to where she left off.

“you seem remarkably unshaken about this.”

“we already have a whole killing game where we are played like puppets, how mad can i be?”

amami chuckles, and not in a subtle way that toujou can completely ignore. “you know what i’ve been thinking? it hasn’t even been more than three months, and yet everyone is eager to depart and never talk about this killing game anymore.”

“and maybe you can respect that at the very least, amami-kun. not everyone at least enjoys some measure of fame like you.”

amami nods in response thoughtlessly, and he gets up ultimately. “it looks like i am no longer even tolerated here. that’s okay; i’ve seen that coming too.

“i guess i’ll come back whenever you yourself desire instead then.”

toujou doesn’t have the heart to tell him there’s no time for anyone to go to an empty husk like her.

 

.

 

eventually, toujou did manage to find a worn edition of her gaiden novel. it’s the only copy that the library owns, which has several pages torn from around the end to boot.

she turns to the beginning of the book, with a gothic-style illustration of her in her maid getup. gold-gilded sigil-like patterns adorn the outline of the picture. quite the unique charm they were attempting to give her, no wonder.

nevertheless, the fact that whoever responsible for choosing the character chose her for a whole novel makes logically no sense. a plain character like her whose only trait is to be deathly loyal to their masters and to complete their tasks couldn’t quite possibly have enough charm compared with the rest.

turns another page, and toujou finds one of the most ridiculous things she has seen in this short, ludicrous life. right before the story begins, around where the chapter title is printed, there’s a small illustration of what looks like a simple line-art drawing of her. with her short hair covered under a shining helmet (complete with sparkles) and a sword by her side.

toujou reads on.

_under what seems to be the most stringent rules of the contract, miss toujou kirumi answers to the call of the royal family of lutherista, the role of a knight had she fulfilled. right around the time, the castle has opened its pearl-gilded gates, toujou has already come by to collect her wares and armours—_

this is the part where toujou releases a bout of laughter from her lips and forgone all other manners she would otherwise hold tightly to.

her lips twist and wrench in unfamiliar ways as her laughter spills out, toujou finds herself shedding tears as the laughter persists. the absurdity she has faced with in this gaiden novel is simply too much.

after she has finally right herself again, she turns yet another page. and another page.

the stories inside the novel unspool like the shoddy ribbons of a pinata, each story an explosive force that aims to hit on people’s hearts and feelings and toujou’s funny bone. every page toujou flips along contains something that tickles right at the spot with enough force to make her chortle out of drollness. at times, her giggle would even attract the attention of the librarian-receptionist or other people present in the library, shooting perplexed glances at her as if she has finally lost every marble she has ever owned.

but as everything has an end, so is there one for her joy. toujou puts the book down in the end, not before casting another look at the ending illustration of a powerful and skilled maid at peace with her afternoon tea after another good job done.

that’s not her. it’s not even remotely like her. she’s just a kid now, who has once been put into the role of a capable servant. forced into a role. and it wasn’t a pretty thing, not glorious or honourable like the maid from the novel, no basking in pride and joy at a nation saved, no being at peace with a compromised duty having refused the payment. nothing of the sorts. certainly no having afternoon tea after another good job done.

toujou proceeds to put the book back where it is before she finds the urge to tear it apart.

 

.

 

“i read somewhere before, that people who have just survived an extreme situation might have a tendency to shut themselves down completely. communications with other people, communications even with their loved ones might completely stop for absolutely no reasons, or they might start doing that after some time rather than immediately.”

toujou scribbles down another rabbit in her notebook, then takes an eraser and slowly wipes the contorted outline out. “and what is it that you would like to make it known to me, amami-kun?”

amami puts down another chess-piece on the chess board, playing another queen against himself. “i think there's no doubt that we are the kind of people that have just experienced an extreme situation, and for a rather long time at that. there’s no doubt that right now you have exhibited that kind of behaviour like the rest of us, and—”

“and you wanna tell me all about how i need to open up and communicate with everyone else so i can heal.”

amami’s smile becomes crooked, but only for a second. “i’m glad that for a change, you seem to know what it is that you need to do.”

“of course i do.” toujou takes another look at the illustration for chapter three of her gaiden novel, starting with another round shape and two long round ears. “i’m already doing that by talking with you, aren’t i?”

“you are now talking with me only because i am talking to you, and you feel prompted and maybe even obliged to do so.” amami takes another chess-piece, but before he could decide on putting it anywhere else, he heaves a dramatical sigh of frustration and simply puts it back. “do you really intend to rot here until who knows when?”

toujou adds two dots to the outline’s upper region, so the rabbit could have two eyes to see. “of course i have no intention of doing that.”

“then why haven’t you seen your therapist for the whole week already?”

the pencil stops. “it’s not worth it. it’s just part of the system again, isn’t it?”

“being part of this system does require you to keep on with this therapy program, but it’s what you need. you know you can’t possibly get back outside without that.”

the pencil drops, not in a graceful manner. “is that so?”

“yeah. technically speaking, those of us who have experienced killing game are often deemed to not be quite immediately adaptive to the society just yet, hence the necessity of participants passing the therapies first.”

toujou jabs the pencil onto the paper, harder and harder by each time. when she speaks again, a dark undercurrent stalks her voice against her will. “right. i see. of course, i would not want to inconvenience anyone here by prolonging my undeserving stay. i will attend the sessions again.”

“i’m glad that is the case, toujou-san.” amami gets up, his eyes closing in the shape of a smile. “i’m sure with time, we will all come to heal and be whole again.”

toujou has no dream of being whole. she has no dream, to begin with.

 

.

 

“toujou-san, i’m impressed! you are recovering very well!”

toujou forces her smile not to contort. even perfecting her smile is an arcane art that she must master now if she hopes to pave a road out of danganronpa. “thank you for your high praises. i could not possibly reach this stage without your assistance.”

“no need for saying that, for i’m only giving you the help you need to know how to help yourself.” the therapist smiles genuinely, for quite possibly the very first time since toujou has known them. “if we keep on this rate, you should be good to go after two more weeks.”

two more weeks of incessant talking, two more weeks of activities tailored specifically to her, two more weeks of meaningless things and toujou will be freed. for sure.

what will be the society outside be like? saihara told her about that some time ago, when they were having lunch together for a very rare occasion.

“the society outside?” saihara has put down his spoon dejectedly, chewing his food slowly while he seemingly ruminates on how to explain it to her. “admittedly… before our killing game went down, the outside world is quite similar to, let’s say, shirogane-san. most people still revel in violence and the plots of danganronpa as it affects all of us…

“but, it’s not all like that! ever since harukawa-san and yumeno-san and my open rebellion, there are more and more people who are starting to reject the entertainment team danganronpa offers. so it’s not entirely still hopeless to be out there, i would say. there are some hopes.”

somewhere, deep in the corners of her heart, toujou feels the barest trace of hope sparkle. she will decide later if she wants to snuff the flame out. “i see. thank you for informing me so, saihara-kun, for whatever purpose you think it serves i am sure it is served.”

saihara smiles.

yet toujou can’t help but notice the few wrinkles branded around his lips, which make their ways towards his not-so-obvious eyebags.

his eyes are so sad.

“you are welcome.” and with that, saihara makes his way back out of the small canteen, and toujou is once again left with her own thoughts to occupy herself.

toujou looks down at her hands. her fingertips brushing against fabric like velveteen. she looks down and sees the pitch blackness of her gloves.

how often she forgot to take off these gloves. the soft fabric that her hands have come to know so intimately as if they have become an inky black part of her being.

“you know, i have wondered about this little something that i’m not sure if you feel okay to talk about, so feel free to ignore me.” toujou snaps her head back up at the sight of a nonplussed saihara, his eyes bright and no doubt full of inquiries.

“what would it be? i’m glad to answer any of your questions.”

saihara frowns. “why exactly do you still wear that pair of gloves?”

the question slugs her in the guts.

“are you taking problems with them? because i promise you and everyone else i am glad to take them off—”

“that’s not what i mean!” the sudden interruption catches toujou off guard, and saihara looks to elsewhere other than her eyes. digging around for apropos words is seemingly still a daunting task for him. “it’s just… most of us have discarded our older attire and accessories and such before we take on therapy sessions. it’s a way for us to learn to leave the pasts of the killing game behind, to live our lives again.

“of course, i’m not saying it’s bad for you to not follow our examples, it’s just… my personally wondering about this…” saihara swallows, and toujou sees sweat starting to form around his forehead and scalp. “you know what, toujou-san? pardon me for being so impolite, i will stop it now.”

“wait.” before toujou could reach her hands out to comfort saihara, he has taken his leave through the canteen bustling with danganronpa employees.

her hands falter, slowly returning back to her side. how easily her composure and comforting platitudes have fallen apart when they were needed. the notions freeze up every opening in her neurons, and once again she’s paralyzed and imprisoned in her own thoughts.

_what did you think you can do again? help the others?_

_i find it wonderful, that you managed to continue holding onto these foolish thoughts._

toujou grips herself in the arms, nearly digging into the thin fabrics of her attire. it’s such a ludicrous action to take, yet comfort starts bleeding out of it.

_it’s gonna be just alright. just alright._

 

.

 

“and that’s why we’ve ordained that the day after tomorrow, you should be good to leave this facility and build a life for yourself in the outside world again.”

toujou’s nerves tickle, an opening that lets in hopes and expectation widens. “t—then that means… ?”

“yes, it means that you will be free to leave this facility and going your own life outside.” with a bubbly disposition and movement, the therapist points at her enthusiastically. “think about all the things that you intended to do! your chance to shine again in life is coming!”

yes, for sure, toujou is breaching the boundaries between reality and her fantasies once more. having even the effrontery to think like that is an indelicate crime toujou knows she should bear responsibility for, and yet she couldn’t find it in her to blame herself or anyone for daring to dream.

huh, could it really be that the therapy has worked and she has started giving a shit about herself? who would’ve thought?

“oh, toujou-san, speaking of and if you don’t mind me asking: are you going to meet up with the rest of your killing game companions before you leave?”

that question lodges itself through her chest and into her heart. yet before the pain can register, toujou has waved away the waterfall of emotions from swarming her. “i suppose that ultimately will be my own decision, but as of now i can’t say the decision is made already. i’m glad that you do care though.”

_am i really glad for that though?_

toujou pushes the question down the folds of her conscience, and the therapist gives her an understanding nod, and once again toujou manages to hide everything behind her mask, behind her everything.

 

.

 

the certificate has already been wrinkled, handiwork courtesy of her lack of self-control and fervent excitement. now that she has come down from the high of being able to walk out of these bleached white walls, toujou has become hypersensitive to every corner and notch in it.

what does she really even remember about this place beyond it being the site of her suffering? imminent to leaving, toujou suddenly becomes a victim of sentimentality, as the shape of the rooms and its contents now make imprints upon her consciousness. so much for wanting to leave.

first of all, she turns to the therapist. “what are you going to do now that i’m no longer your charge? find another charge?”

the therapist smiles bitterly. “not much, i don’t think i’ll be up to much at all. after all, now that you guys are pretty much done with your respective programs, i could scarcely imagine a reason for any of us to meet one another again.”

“is there a reason for why you guys are doing this though? are there naturally just therapy programs for every danganronpa participants, or this just happens to be something you guys want to do for us?”

the therapist’s lips unhinge a little. “well, i don’t know if you really have forgotten every single thing that has come out of your contract with team danganronpa, but it is true that each of you have a contracted therapist to take care of your mental and emotional state after the simulation is over.”

“i see.” toujou packs in a few more clothes into her small suitcase, ruminating over the therapist’s words like a clocksmith poking into the gears of a broken clock. the therapist gives her a few more glances, reminiscent that of a… a child terrified of their parent’s outbursts.

suddenly the thought that she is no longer the therapist’s responsibility has become a greater comfort.

“thank you again for everything.”

 

.

 

the last thing she will say to this bleached white world, she has determined, would be that thank-you to the therapist. the therapist that she has always considered as her therapist and nothing else. the therapist whose name she never even has the mind to remember.

“wait, toujou-san wait!”

toujou did not even have the mind to step out of her room just yet, and here saihara is again, clutching his chest as he heaves through his unspoken words heavily. as if he’s choking on what he’s going to say.

“i was hoping i could catch you too before this whole facility’s empty… i’m so glad i did make it.”

“before the whole facility’s empty… what do you mean?”

“haven’t you heard? today all of us are moving out of the facility, whether we are really done with the program or not.” saihara stands up straight again, though it looks like he’s still hunched somewhat to appear smaller. “the protests outside are getting more traction, and fewer people can tolerate team danganronpa and their doings. so now they are all leaving and intending to lie low for a while until people forget about them.”

“but that would mean…” a fissure tears its way out of toujou’s heart. toujou could almost feel the things filling up the gaps in her logic now. the lack of a genuine therapy program. the lax way the therapist treats her. how the therapist resorts exclusively in praises and her apparently nonexistent ability to ameliorate her situation.

but these are things toujou wouldn’t spill. things she will never burden anyone else with, so she stays silent and only nods in acknowledgement.

“so yeah, basically we are all moving out today.” saihara starts fumbling around his clothes then, until he picks out a piece of paper. “but even if it looks like we are all going to move apart and never come back here, i still want us to remember each other, so i’m gonna give you this.”

toujou takes the paper and reads. the paper has two lines of words on it, the first being an url. “www.lostsoulsdiaries.com? that doesn’t sound like something any of us would come up with, except maybe ouma-kun.”

saihara chuckles at her comment, a blubbering laughter that he tries desperately to hide. toujou looks at him incredulously, until she realizes that she has just cracked a joke. “oh, i see that what i have just said sounds ridiculous, and i’m sor—”

“hey! definitely don’t say sorry for doing something so normal, especially when it doesn’t offend anyone at all. least of all ouma-kun himself.” saihara’s laughter concludes with a knowing smile, and he points toujou’s attention back to the slip of paper. “this is a website that yumeno-san, harukawa-san and i have secretly set up. it looks like a blog site, but it’s really more like one of those venting blogs you can see that allows people to vent online anonymously in a group, so it’s also kinda like a group chat, except it’s only for the fifteen of us.

“each of us has a verified account here, and the line below contains your id and password. it goes without saying that you can change it of course. in some ways, it’s kinda like a meeting place for us all, where we can all individually speak out about how we feel and all kinds of stuff you would like to share, that is.”

toujou looks down the paper, now that it weighs more than a mountain in the centre of her palm. “so… you want us to participate in this group therapy where we speak our minds out?”

“exactly! it is a place for us all to speak our minds, and even though it kinda functions like a chaotic group chat as of now, i’m sure the intention won’t be lost on everyone else.” saihara looks down on the ground, guilt shadowing his eyes. “with that said though… i wish i could do more than registering a website for a group chat simply because we can’t trust other actual instant messaging app out there, but i hope this can still help us to a degree.”

toujou looks down on the paper, her lips pursed with no filler words to respond. “…  thank you for that. yeah, thank you for that.”

“no problem. let’s all do our best now.”

saihara walks away from her then, and toujou wishes she could will more words into existence, but for what purpose or meaning they are supposed to serve, toujou just can’t say.

after all, what can this body bag with nothing create or provide anything to this world…?

…

toujou picks up the lightweight suitcase and leaves the facility once and for all.

 

.

 

the outside weather seems to have taken everyone’s doubtlessly bad mood into account. the clouds gather around in silvery streams, the backdrop of it dark and grey like the piles of rocks team danganronpa very pretentiously place next to their doors. some said that these rocks are meant to be used for calming purposes, or so toujou’s dying talented maid self has informed.

a chilly breeze blows right past her, reminding her in an instant where she is. it just occurred to her, that somehow, it almost looks like she’s the last person to leave now. where’s saihara? wasn’t he here just now?

should she even question all this anymore? is she at a position to question that?

is she—

toujou shakes her head violently, releasing low groans that annoy her. these are noises that you shouldn’t make, that you are in no liberty or right to make, the bursts between her synapses whisper into her, not things you should burden the world with, as they stuff the whines back into her throats and back down into the pitch-black pit of her remorse.

she ruffles through her own hair, desperately trying to calm herself down once and for all, so no more black thoughts could seep in—

—that’s when the sensation of her own flesh intruding upon her scalp rushes into her consciousness.

what were her hands again? made of black silk?

toujou looks back down on her hands. her decidedly pale hands with no traces of black. the black is nowhere to be seen. nowhere to be seen.

 

.

 

she couldn’t temp down the urge to run straight back into the facility.

she didn’t even remember putting her suitcase into a better spot before rushing right back in, but who is she to complain? without the gloves, without the black, she could feel no sense of self. the suitcase could get swallowed into nowhere else and toujou wouldn’t be worse for the wear, without her black gloves.

the facility is promptly being shut down, and toujou could see more personnel slipping out of the building on the edge of her periphery. they all have terrifying blank eyes. not a good sight to see, though she could imagine her own eyes wouldn’t be any better.

no time to consider that anymore. toujou rushes past personnel, carts of equipment, and so many, so many emblems-branded unsold merchandise. just the sight of them sets something like fire down toujou’s throat, but she bites it down desperately, the knowledge that she has no time to consider such things far more glaringly obvious in her mind.

just where could she place her gloves? when did she even take them off? somebody take them from her. this is the only logical answer toujou could reach right now, as her thoughts race to the rhythm of her rushed footsteps. someone has the audacity to rip herself away from her body. her gloves. the darkness she holds so preciously to herself. the—

“this should be the last of them.” toujou snaps her head up ahead, as something with a dull edge catches her eye.

her gloves. the person up ahead is holding her black gloves. there’s no mistaking it, the silver rings still attached to them the clearest evidence that she has barked up the right tree.

toujou runs, her hands outstretched to reach for the gloves.

“where the hell did you think you were going?”

the person holding her gloves move them away from their original position, and toujou grabs onto thin air. toujou looks up and finds herself face to face with a familiar bespectacled face.

“shi, shirogane?”

“yeah, what is it you still have business with us?” shirogane scowls with an intensity that could only be matched with toujou’s own, back when she was arguing against saihara for her coun— “i don’t recall missing anything that should’ve been offered to you ages ago already.”

“you, you do.” toujou drags herself out, hoping to buy time for her mind to speak clearly. “i have things from you that you have ripped apart from me.”

“like what?” shirogane raises her hands then, toujou’s black gloves hanging from the air. in a grip that is decidedly not tight, with the gloves resting precariously on the edge of plunging into the flames next to her. incinerator. how has she not noticed earlier they were burning unnecessary things into the incinerator.

toujou clutches her fists. “like the gloves you are holding right now.”

shirogane stares at them for a second, then releases a laugh reminiscent of a cartoon villain, or at least toujou’s impression of one. “so, you were hoping you could take these gloves back?”

“why else would i even bother to talk to y—”

“you are very right in that! why else would you bother to talk to the person that puts you all through this suffering that you yourself have voluntarily put yourself up as available for?” the sudden fire in shirogane’s tone catches toujou off guard. shirogane doesn’t let up. “think about it, why would you bother talking to me at all? surely i would have raised your painful memories about the killing game, so why not abandon me out of your mind?”

“i don’t know what you’re talking abou—” toujou takes an imposing step forward, but shirogane only swiftly dodges to her right and right back to the position closest to the incinerator.

“take me for example! i’m trying my best to move past the part about my role in this game by burning everything that has ever been related to it,” shirogane points to the incinerator then, with the left hand that’s holding toujou’s gloves. “i think it would benefit you a lot, toujou-san, to do the same as i do, by cutting ties with me right now and to abandon these stupid gloves!”

toujou’s mind starts melting. “i don’t know what you are—”

“doing? saying?” shirogane does a small pirouette, holding the gloves high above her head the entire time. “what we all say and do have inherently no meaning, toujou-san, if you choose not to give them any. don’t you find that fact rather entertaining? i sure do.”

“you’re starting to not make any sen—”

“i haven’t exactly been making much sense since danganronpa crashes and burns into nothing right in front of me, so if you will excuse me,” shirogane takes a bow and her hand arcs towards the flames—

“wait—”

the gloves fly right into the gaping maw of the incinerator.

toujou’s world stops spinning.

“right! now we are good! i finally got rid of everything!” shirogane lets out a terrifying laugh, a bout of joyous, vicious laughter. “now we are good to go! good to leave!”

 

.

 

the incinerator didn’t turn off until another half an hour of burning. toujou stays and watches the ashes fly past her.

after it did turn off, toujou lets herself hit the ground.

“… toujou-san?”

toujou struggles to look up, mashing her face against the ground several times, before she could find saihara’s grey eyes staring down at her.

“why… why are you here?”

what are you going to let him know? the new future that you have started with utter disappointment?

you get up to your knees, then you run.

 

.

 

that small suitcase somehow has continued sitting where it was, and you found the resolve to at least take it with you. now that your most precious material possession is gone, you’re already starting at the bottom of the pit, so starting off with even just a little bit more would be better than nothing.

… how have you never noticed that? the liberty that comes with being able to release yourself back into the wilderness of this world, of not giving a damn to anything.

who were you running from again? who were you again?

nothing matters, other than the wind ruffling through your body and the sense of unrestrained, absolute freedom.

 

.

 

you’ve come to a strange place. a small seaside town. the heavy waves of the sea beat onto the beach, relentless, unyielding, like the claws of the bright-eyed folks that have been chasing you.

surely you can take refuge here now, however. this seaside town has a darkening quality that mists over the folks’ vision, so most certainly they will overlook this settlement, and think of you somewhere else aside from the seaside town.

your convictions made, you move on back to arriving at the town properly. then you will have to think of things you have to accomplish here.

 

.

 

you got yourself a pretty nice spot on the cliff. it seems rather inane, to build a house right on a cliff in a seaside town where it’s highly liable to be destroyed by roaring waves, but you shake that thought out of your body and simply move on.

the shaky foundation of the house did nothing to settle your nerves, but you look out towards the beach and can’t help but let a stream of warmth worm its way into your heart. the tumultuous waves drum to the rhythm of your heartbeats, giving away what feels like the last of your secrets.

… those are some interesting metaphors you have in your head, though what use are they? this is not what you should be doing here. the world’s an empty sandglass waiting for you to fill in, so it can run smoothly again. this world has a lot of notches to fill, and you should get to it right now.

firstly, you set foot outside of your house and head straight to the town itself. the town seems peaceful enough when you get there, though it seems only once in a blue moon can you encounter people who walk these streets. the people who walk these streets, in turn,  have vacant looks in their eyes as if they are dragged by nothing to continue their walks.

the emptiness certainly carries a magnetic force between you and all of them, isn’t that so?

you are asking too many questions. you should just get to whatever work is available.

 

.

 

you have been performing voluntary work mostly from around the town. your only form of income comes from a small family bakery located next to the park. there’s a lot of different kinds of bread in it. you nearly feel impressed by this.

“hey, miss kaihara,” you nearly did not recognize the name you have given yourself, but you manage to turn around to face the owner just in time not to seem suspicious. “will you be fine with extending the work time by two more hours?”

“of course i don’t mind.” you let the answer slither out of your lips with such startling easiness, you forget for an instance how much you have come to loathe the smell of wheat in your nostrils. “you might give me a rundown on what i need to do right this instant if you please.”

the owner chuckles. “of course there’s no such thing here, miss. we are but a bakery. what kind of bakery could possibly have a rundown of duties? we all just work on whatever that comes on our mind.”

the casual tone of the owner stays static on the edges of your nerves, and you can feel sparkles frayed against them. “right, i understand then. what do you require me to do next?”

“oh, about that… it doesn’t look like we have much other business right now, and since you will be working extra for us today, i’d say you can take a break if you like.”

“i’m grateful for that.” you don’t mean it, but saying it releases something stopping you from using your hands to do things you don’t mean. you take off the worn apron and walks up to the back storage room.

when you did get down on a seat, you realize that you have no genuine source of entertainment within your reach to keep your brain from rotting to the stench of gluten and sweat. you feel around your pockets until you feel a singular bump from around your waist. your smartphone.

you turn on the screen, straining your eyes against the darkness of the room to see clearly the content on the screen.

your mind floats to the slip of paper from a long time ago.

the slip of paper with two lines of otherwise meaningless words. where is it? did you take it with you?

you feel around your pockets again, the hope that it no longer exists burning a hole through your chest. nothing. you feel relief flooding you before you feel the rough texture of the paper’s messily folded-up form.

it’s still there.

are you grateful?

you take the paper out and inspect the url, username and password imprinted on it. there isn’t anything specifically you in it, but you can’t deny the paper has a sense of pressure pressing down onto you, right at this very moment you are viewing the paper.

you input the url into a random internet browser you can find, and instantly a minimalist login page pops up. the title is as the url suggests as if a way to make it look as inconspicuous as possible.

you scroll around the screen, checking for anything else that could make clear what this page contains. nothing else. the login page doesn’t even contain an explanation for how the site works.

looking at the layout of the page is already nauseating you. you close the tab and turns off your phone just for an extra measure.

_chatroom. chatlogs. chats. private chats._

you startle at the words running through your neurons. you do your best to turn them away, so you can clear your head for your current job.

 

.

 

another day in the bakery, another evening spent in the local park.

it isn’t exactly a park per se, merely one that resembles a park. when the architect responsible for building it, they probably take the concept of a park and warps it into “resting space with minimally usable seats and much more green plants than necessary”.

you have no complaint reserved for this place, however, just concern for the residents here for how insufficiently the park serves its purpose. with that said, most residents don’t seem to have much unhappiness written on their faces while sitting around here. maybe they are okay with it. maybe they are too numb to care. have you ever seen a trace of joy or anger rush across their countenances?

you unwrap your dinner, a small sandwich with questionable stuffing. you can cook your own dinner since a long time ago, if your service ( _imaginary service_ ) at the restaurants you have saved in the past is any indication. but you don’t exactly have a nice-looking saving deposit, much less any money enough to buy you cooking utensils, so it’s ordained since long that you will stay like this too.

of course, you do have no desire to stay here. you will find a way, a shining path out of this dark town overcast with the sea breeze.

 

.

 

before you leave, leaving nothing in your path, no tears shed or smiles traded, you take out a small camera.

the camera is an extremely old model. you get it from an old antique broker with a perpetual benevolent smile plastered on their face. when you set foot in their store, you weren’t expecting much, just a small amble around to clear your head.

somehow, almost as if they know all along, the broker hands you the camera in a flash.

“why are you offering me things i have not bargained for, or even give the appropriate price for?”

“i can’t quite run this antique store anymore, ma’am,” the broker has a broken smile on their face. you’re not sure how you can tell the smile is broken; you just know, instinctually. “old age and a lack of willpower, i suppose. i hope that i could unite these treasures to an appropriate owner, at the very least, so i will ask for no price.”

“that still makes very little sense, with all due respect. why exactly would you offer me a camera, even if you have deemed me someone deserving of it?”

“you look like a very lonely miss,” the muscles in your face might have strained just that little bit that would give you away, but the broker has no sparkle of recognition in their eyes or slows in their response. “i thought a camera could be a good companion. this isn’t like any of the newer models; it’s a very ancient one, the kind that can immediately send out a physical copy of the photo once you’ve taken it. caution though, that it only can print the photos out when you have sufficient film with which to create the photos with.”

you look down on the camera, how curious it is that it contains nothing but a seeing scope of sorts, and you take the other end and put it next to your eyes. you look into it deeply.

a click sounds. you startle a little.

“there! it seems you already have a hang on how to take a picture!” the broker bends down and takes the slip of photo that runs out of the camera. “i’m sure you will take good care of it.”

…

you look back down at the camera. you hope the broker’s words will ring true.

you take a snap of the seaside town, then takes your small suitcase with you, getting out of here, getting out of nowhere.

 

.

 

the next settlement you have gotten to carries a genuine small-town charm in your own opinions. it’s around summer now, and the town has a small fragment of casualness embedded into their very foundation. the people are happier, greet people with snow-white smiling teeth, speak honey-sweet words to each other’s ears.

you hope you can fit in here too. you can’t find yourself stretching a wide smile the way you have retained empty eyes for the last town, but you can do it. you just know that. for the sake of… for the sake of your very being, you can manage that for sure.

_your very being… which you can’t even grasp at all._

but, you grip your fists tight by your side and silence whatever sound that has leaked out of the crevices in your mind. a hard-to-come-by smile stretches itself across your face once more, and friendly words overflow to ornate it.

 

.

 

in the silence of the night, you find yourself staring at the slip of paper again.

memories about the day you spent working are already slithering away, and all that remains yet again is the paper. you desperately grab onto the imagery of those smiling faces happy with your services, but none accompany the slip of paper as it sits down there to mock you yet again.

how hard is it to just log into the website and put on your normality again? you wield them all against the townspeople with definite ease, right? you didn’t even have to see them, see their expressions, see their hearts, see their…

your heart is kicking into gear gradually as you fumble to tap on the correct url onto the address bar. once again, the almost-intentionally blank screen greets you.

you tap into the first character of the username.

then another.

then another.

the username entered, you now move onto the password row.

one letter.

then the other.

both login credentials filled, your fingers hover over the login button.

hesitate.

your index finger continues to hover over the button, inching ever closer.

ever further away.

the screen darkens and then turns off.

you take that as a sign that the world is not ready to forgive you yet, and you understand. you go on with your life with your phone switched off, at least for now, you said to yourself.

at least for now.

 

.

 

you take a snap of the town. it has been a rather lovely and nice atmosphere to be in, but you don’t deserve it. you don’t deserve to live among this pure happiness for so long. after all, you are trying to atone. you aren’t here to enjoy yourself.

a memory of it you might be allowed to bring along, but you will have to remember the extent of grace that has been given to you.

 

.

 

where are your people again? surely they couldn’t be these entitled brats? you question yourself again and again, as you offer the citizens their fresh produce through a smattering of chastising and tumbling of coins. can you retrieve them? can your faith lead you to them? you thought as another child throws handfuls of sand at you for fun.

someday you will have to end this cycle too, right? you know you can’t keep around in circles and evading every bit of your past as it trickles ever closer to you. one day there will have to be some form of reckoning.

what cycle are you talking about? what are all these things you are talking about? you have no idea, so you don’t think about it. the best way to deal with life is not to think about anything that doesn’t seem to make sense. it’s the only way to deal with life. right. the only way to deal with wrenched-out notches in a machine is to destruct the entire structure and start anew. that’s what you are doing. that’s what you are going to keep doing.

you are never going to think about your phone again.

 

.

 

you did think about your phone again.

you are locking yourself into this cycle, you do know that. stay in a human settlement and serve others for an unknown period of time, go back to your temporary home and stare at the phone trying to login into this mysterious website, fails to login and go back to work, leave the human settlement and takes a photo as a so-called reminder of your experience there. you don’t ever even think about those photos once they are taken. you are running low on film.

you type in the login credentials again and the button should be pressed. the button has to be pressed.

when you get into the website nothing is there. you are simply provided with a small text box at the bottom of the screen and another button to the side shaped like a triangle.

then activity starts to kick in.

_!!! is that toujou-san?_

_toujou-san finally comes in!!! god said it would happen today!!!!_

_haha, angie-chan’s going off with her weird god talk again. don’t mind her kirumi-chan._

who are these people? you surely know nothing about them. should you know anything about them? the only thing you ever know about is your deadset desire to serve others and the people you should be serving instead of fooling around with these people here.

and despite all these things you told yourself, you can’t resist the temptation to see the words that burst from each of them.

_guys guys calm down!! it’s only toujou-san’s first day here. we can’t scare her away after it takes her this long to work up the courage of joining us_

_how are we being intimidating at all??? she could speak anytime she likes now duh_

_akamatsu-san doesn’t mean it like that, i think what she means is that we should let toujou-san get a bit more used to how we are like now before trying to establish further contact_

_that makes no sense whatsoever so i intend to ignore this._

_toujou-san!! how are u doing??? none of us knows where u went after leaving the facility so sorry we didn’t contact u earlier…_

_it’s more like “you left and didn’t give us any means of contact so we kinda just all wimp out of trying to do that and wait for you to come on here instead”_

contact? Were you meant to contact them after all this time? after all that has happened?

you tap into the speech box. you should probably talk back now.

**what happened while i’m gone?**

_um, not much honestly? we are all just big messes talking with each other and trying to properly recover from all the killing game shit. i still can’t believe team dr really shits all over us even after the killing game. we should axe them when we can._

**… so why should i be here?**

_??? because you want to be? i mean, after all this time of you not coming in, we all just hope that one day you finally remember us and do want to come in to say hi or anything. it’s not like we can track you down and make you type daily reminders that you are still alive or anything._

you are seeing it now. how you will settle back into what they want. how you will chat with them from time to time and call it a day. how you think this is the solution to all of your problems. talk to your friends, get close with them again,

_—beg for forgiveness—_

a searing pain flames through your brain, and you nearly drop the phone. maybe this is a karmic reminder that you shouldn’t waste your time on fancy gadgets again. you can’t do this anymore. it’s time to stop.

 

.

 

the next day you woke up you instinctively seek out your phone. there are hundreds of messages during your absence. you scroll up back to the beginning of the long backlog and are greeted with rows after rows of question marks.

_??? toujou-san??? are you still there?_

_toujou-san i’m sorry on ouma-kun and others’ behalves if they said something wrong!! please can you give us a reply_

these are… people who care about you? who call you with a name you can barely recognize? the name of a person you had been but have since given up, since the loss of the…

…

you can’t remember what they are, but they were important to you. that’s for sure. should you remember then? is it easier to forget everything and move on?

 

.

 

it’s probably the first time you decided not to move onto the next town just yet.

you have the financial means, and you have everything with you still, but you are reluctant to move away now. there’s nothing about the town that particularly draws you in, but you stay. you are going to stay for now.

you are typing away in the chat again.

**so, how’s everyone doing now then?**

_we are pretty good toujou-san!!! some of us are still having difficulties in avoiding public attention, and we don’t exactly have enough education to have any jobs just yet, but we are doing well enough on the prize money saihara harukawa and yumeno-san have_

**so… i’m taking it that you guys need more money?**

_that’s not exactly what we mean aaaaa i mean_

_you’re bad at this lemme take over jeez. no kirumi-chan we don’t need ur money. akamatsu-chan and everyone would love to see you join us again, as mutual survivors and all that._

_also, i don’t wanna sound rude or anything kirumi-chan, but it sounds kinda creepy that you only want to reunite with us bc you think we are running out of money???_

you don’t know how to respond properly to that. the art of finding the right words to suit what the asker wants has long left you.

**because, that’s what i should be doing for you all. i failed in doing that once, so i will have to do it again, shouldn’t i?**

you send in the message and wait for a response. but then your boss is calling for you to come down again, so the wait will have to be later.

doing all these menial tasks are now a bore to you, contradictory to when it was a fountain of joy to you. where has that happiness gone? sapped away by your former… friends?

friends. people who love and care for you unconditionally. people who like you and appreciate you for who you are.

they do sound like that kind of people. maybe you could really try looking out for them and be with them together again. all the atonement you’ve done for so long, their obvious acceptance of you, they are telltale enough.

you should do it. even if it is for them.

 

.

 

**how is everyone doing?**

_I’m pretty good! Gonta has been trying to learn more stuff daily to help around the house! And the process is pretty good right now!_

_gonta has really been doing great! god has taught gonta several useful skills like painting and painting for a long time and painting under one minute!_

**wait a sec there… are you all living together?**

_nah! we can’t afford such a big house to take in that many of us, and it’s super easy to raise suspicions for over ten teens living together, i promise you. we all try not to live too far apart from each other though_

**i see.**

you hover over the letters on your keyboard again. no words are pouring out of you, and panic is filling you up instead. didn’t you want to get close to them again, get close to your friends again? why are you silent once more? where are your thoughts?

_toujou-san? are you still there?_

_maybe she has gone to sleep_

_yeah, she mentioned that she is still working out there right? she couldn’t have all the time in the world to keep chatting with us_

yes, you really couldn’t, but only because you’ve chosen not to. you can absolutely waltz right out of here and join them. they won’t mind it.

so why do you?

 

.

 

today you are quitting your job in this thankless town. in the many other towns, you have served at least there is a semblance of respect in those people’s eyes. you might crave redemption, but you don’t crave them enough to lower yourself like this.

so it’s all decided, right? looking for them is your only route now. there’s nothing else to consider then.

you return to that rented apartment room and start packing away your little amount of belongings. that small camera, some clothes, several books you deemed interesting enough and several notebooks for records, and your—

gloves.

your heart skips a beat. you stare down hard at them, and they are pure black even before you start noticing them. they seem to lack certain features to look familiar enough, but they still look similar enough to the gloves you feel like you once know.

_these gloves that have once wrapped around the body of—_

you choke, the words inside you threatening to rip you apart while trying to get out. the words that have long been buried deep inside you are roaring now, no doubt incited by the appearance of the gloves.

maybe you could ask them. maybe they will have an answer about the gloves and the memories associated with them.

 

.

 

**do you guys know where did these gloves come from?**

you wait for an answer after the photo is finished uploading.

_they are regular gloves, toujou-san._

_yeah i’m not seeing anything strange about them._

_they don’t look like uh particularly special? just regular gloves i guess._

you sigh to yourself, ready to call it a night and go to sleep. but another notif pops up before you turn off the phone.

_toujou-san, are you remembering about your gloves?_

your gloves? you owned them? that would explain the familiarity for sure, but under what condition would you have owned them? your hands have never known the soft sensation of the silk.

silk. how do you know those gloves are made of silk?

… it looks like you really might have owned them then.

how many more things have you been lying to yourself about?

the notifs sound goes off again.

_toujou-san, if it’s possible, i feel like we should meet up._

**why would you deem that necessary?**

_well, i know it has to be settled one way or another. it’s no good for any of us to keep on avoiding the subjects of what we have done in the killing game. anyway, let’s propose a location and time._

killing. game?

you have joined a killing game? what is a killing game?

you crudely excuse yourself from that and get off your bed and rush to the small suitcase you have. there’s no medication for sleeping. where the hell have you put your sleeping pills again? you look up the cabins. there’s a multitude of the pills and bandaids you have stored for emergencies, but your concept of emergency back then hadn’t covered this. how have you been this unprepared? you should have never been unprepared in your life. you scrounge in deeper into the cabin. after all, being who you are now means you should never be caught dead in any inconvenience or trouble at all, right? after all, you are—

the small cabin can no longer bear your weight, and it breaks from its frame on the wall, pushing piles of medicine and you back down onto the ground.

something salty and moist covers your eyes and spill down your cheeks. well, people like you shouldn’t cry.

 

.

 

the next day saihara appears to toujou with a surprisingly short person toujou doesn’t think she could have recognized from her travels or any other related experiences in her life thus far.

“i think at this point, you already know everything that has happened to you, right? you actually do know, right?” saihara said, eyes downcast even though his tone is encouraging. “you remember who you have been, and what you have done, right?”

toujou looks back down on the worn-out pair of black gloves that most certainly do not belong to her. “right. i was just hiding myself in plain sight the whole time and hoping i could finally forget everything. you remember what they said in those fake therapy sessions team danganronpa has given us, right? forget everything and move on? i think at some point shirogane told me that too.”

“yeah, that has already been their strategy.” saihara affirms, ruffling a loose bang of his hair like the old time. “so you do remember? everything you have done in the killing game?”

“i do. the fake country. how i have decided to murder hoshi. how i have done it.” toujou puts on the gloves then, and the short person beside saihara gulps. the short person is hoshi. “it’s unsettling, how much i willingly let myself forget on the name of atonement. how i have been chasing forgiveness while forgetting on what atrocity i was begging forgiveness for.”

“right, i’m glad you could get that now, toujou.” hoshi said with something that almost resembles cheeriness in his voice. “now that you know i do forgive you, maybe you can finally—”

“no. it’s not that simple.” toujou crosses her arms and feels the way her fists ball into the fabric of the gloves. “i can’t just ask you to forgive me right away just because you guys are worried for my well-being. you can’t allow this to be that simple, hoshi-kun. for all intents, i should do something to prove how i stand on this world.”

“how you stand on this world?”

“yes. maybe you guys also think what happened in the killing game is a trippy mechanism monokuma set on us, but it doesn’t mean none of us needs to claim responsibility. i should still claim responsibility for killing hoshi to satisfy my own selfish agenda. and yes, i can recognize that was my own selfishness. sacrificing one another to do what we have thought as grand and selfless… that’s utter selfishness.”

hoshi’s mouth hangs slightly open previously while toujou articulates her response, but it shuts tight again into a signature smile hoshi has always worn during that wretched killing game. “i could see the sense in your words.”

“hoshi-kun, you don’t intend to stop toujou-san in doing whatever she’s thinking of now?”

“saihara, do you think we really have the power of stopping toujou at this point?” hoshi smiles brighter. “to be quite honest, even now i am still mad that she went and murdered me of all people, though i suppose should anyone else been chosen they would have felt the same, but that’s beside the point.

“the point is, i truly am still angry at toujou for having murdered me for something that ultimately isn’t real. and it’s like she said, even if she has no way of knowing this grand goal she was trying to achieve isn’t real, it’s still selfish to take away other people’s lives on your own whim, isn’t it? so if there’s really anything she thinks she must do for that purpose, i say we let her do so.”

saihara’s face scrunches up with his brows tightly knotted into a frown, but he relents with a sigh. “right. i don’t think toujou-san would attempt anything particularly senseless. i suppose i will believe in toujou-san to do whatever she must then. with that said though… i would still prefer if we could know what toujou-san has in mind mostly.”

“there are two things i must do. the second thing is that i do what i can in my capacity to help hoshi to achieve what he wants, as ways for rightfully earning the forgiveness  from him.”

“and what would the first one be?”

toujou only smiles at that.

 

.

 

this is the last trip you are taking as you. it’s gonna be a long trip, one you hope you can endure for sure, one you know you can endure for sure.

sometimes the line between hoping for something and knowing something absolutely would happen blurs right at the very edge, and it’d caused you to spend ages trying to make out each of their outlines again.

sometimes the line between reality and your version of reality blurs even harder, and sometimes you don’t even know if you can cut them out quite clear. but you try and try again for that, and you don’t stop trying. that’s how you deal with life after all.

you take up everything in your suitcase and leave for the spot that could give you the full view of the town before you are leaving for good. you take out the camera and another photo, ordinary like any other in your collection, is created.

then you put it into an envelope, with the address saihara has given you as to where the letter has to go. oh, how you nearly forgot the small note you have to slip into for every single one of them too. you don’t want your friends—family—to miss anything.

right, now you have one letter sent. that’s good. after this, you can move onto the next town or village or city you were hoping you could go. there are way more places you want them to know about.

that’s good. let’s start on the journey.

**Author's Note:**

> comment and kudos are appreciated!!!


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